Guilty God
by NeonZangetsu
Summary: A god is righteous. A god is just. A god delivers punishment upon those who have sinned. Yes, that is what I am. The title of "God" belongs to me, and me alone. And those that have wronged this god...shall be punished. NarutoxHarem! Dark! Lemons! X-over!
1. Guilty God

**A/N: *Cries* Something really sad happened to me yesterday. I've suffered a death in the family. On that same day I discovered the sad anime that is Guilty Crown. That's where this idea originally sprang from though it is not related to the anime series itself in any way, shape or form. And remember...death is never the end for the us. It is only the beginning.**

**Hope you like it...**

_The blooming wild flower Ah, please tell me Why do people fight And hurt each other The gallantly blooming flower What do you see from there? Why are people Unable to forgive each other..._

_~Inori._

**Guilty God**

_He was dying._

He could feel it, the white-hot flames, ripping across his flesh. Scorching his skin. Scalding his soul. He could have run. Should have run. He stayed; because he had no choice, no choice but to stay. He offered his back to his friends and his face to the enemy; spitting in the face of his demise. They held him down and beat him. He said nothing. They took his beloved and raped her, over and over and over. His heart screamed, but he said nothing. He would not give them the satisfaction they desired.

He could not.

_He would not._

He offered no resistance as they strapped him to a post in the center of town; nor did he resist when they began with their hateful cries of "Die demon!" and began flogging. When that was not enough for them, when he refused to react to their jabs and jibes, his captors took the torment one step further. They gouged out his eyes; those lovely orbs of azure sapphiric blue. He did not die. The pain was excruciating, but somehow, he did not die.

So they lopped off his legs.

_He bled, but did not die._

Then his arms.

_His wound wept crimson, but he did not die._

They scalped his head, shearing free his flesh and the spiky blond locks of which he'd once been so proud. And still, _he did not die_. They mocked his dream, and spat at him and _laughed_ at him and all the while _he_ the shinobi, only smiled. It was an eerie, disconcerting smile. The smile of a man who, someday, somewhere, somehow, would have his revenge. Even if it took him a hundred years. If it meant vengeance, then he would gladly take their beatings and their curses with a smile; because he would meet his end with honor and dignity. He took their words and the pain, and smiled, defiant to the end as one of them brought the machete down and severed his head.

Even then, he died with a smile.

* * *

It came as less a surprise, more a relief, when he finally woke from the dream.

At first, anyway.

His first clue that he had returned from the land of nightmares came when darkness truly fell. The visions evaporated, and the voices went with them. For a very welcome period, there was nothing to see or hear, or even think. He could just rest, and be.

Then new noises began to intrude on the peaceful silence: the whirring of rustling cloth, low-pitched whispers and murmurrs from someone, a fizzing, spitting noise that could have been running water, and other sounds that had no place in his serenity. His heart rose at the sound of a his lieutenant's voice, rising above the others. The faint sticking point between each cycle was horribly familiar.

Someone_-who was it-_spoke:

"Aizen-taichou?"

For a moment, just a moment, he nearly slipped. He nearly said the words:

_"That's not my name."_

For a moment, he nearly doomed himself.

Then he remembered who he was, what he was, and he swallowed the words with a false smile. _Ah._ Even after more than a centruy in the afterlife. even after his betrayal of Hirako and the others, it was still difficult to maintain the facade at times. Frankly, he found the waking moments to be the most difficult. Whenever he stirred, whenever he rose from his slumber, always found a glimmer of his past somwhere in the present; somewhere in his lieutenant's face, threatening to derail his finely laid plan for the future.

"Good morning, Hinamori-kun."

"Did I wake you?" she pressed, suddenly fretful.

He smiled from where he lay, shaking his head.

"Not at all, Hinamori-kun...

...not at all." he dismissed her, smiling as he heard the rustle of cloth; as she swiftly dressed herself.

Sosuke Aizen, shinigami, and captain of the fifth divsion opened his eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows, blinking away the last remnants of his nightmare. Though the dream had been vivid, he knew it had been just that. A dream. A spectre of the past, come to haunt him. Nothing more. Nothing less. This particular dream_-nightmare-_held a special significance for him, but it was not yet time to divulge its meaning to his gummed eyes. He reached for his spectacles_-he didn't need to wear them, but they were neccessary for his harmless guise-_and stared across at her, his false smile obscurring the lingering displeasure from the dream, the memory of his first death.

Soon it would be time to begin. Soon, this world would know the terror of what they'd unleashed on that fateful day. Soon, once he finished with the afterlife and wreaked his just vengeance upon Kami himself, the living world would know retribution. But now was not the time. Now was the time to _maintain_ the illusion; to uphold this gentle veneer he'd worked so hard to craft during his second lifetime. In essence, he was living another lie. Not that it mattered.

Not anymore.

His life back then had been a lie. _An illusion._ A clever deception of incompetence, meant to fool all those around him. And for a time it had. But all good things must end. They grew overconfident, callous, and in their callousness, assumed their acts to be deeds of righteousness. They'd been foolish enough to try his temper. They'd killed him. Broken his dream. Sulled the one woman who knew him better than anyone else. They thought the demon was gone. Dead. Destroyed. They thought themselves safe, _safe_ while they labored to make their village greater than any other, at any cost.

But all of that, was about to change.

Betrayal would be met by betrayal. He would grind them into dust. Those he thought he could trust. Those who smiled their sweet, sickly smiles, those who stabbed him in the back with rusted kunai the moment he lowered his guard . He'd been a fool for trusting them. That had been his mistake. _His concsience._ While maintaing the illusion of a fool, of a boy who knew absolutely nothing, he'd made the mistake of opening up to them, to his superiors. First to Iruka Umino. Then Kakashi Hatake. Old man Hokage. And finally that blond wench of a woman, Tsunade. Even the perverted hermit who was supposed to be his _freaking godfather_ had failed him; failed him by dying at the hands of Pain, for not being there to protect him when the furious hordes of villagers descended upon him for luring the Akatsuki to Konoha, for destroying their village.

Idly, he wondered at it as he dressed himself, as he slid on his shihakusho and haori. Not at the matters of Kuchiki Rukia and the young ryoka known as Kurosaki Ichigo. They fascinated him so, but it was to other matters that his mind drifted.

How many years had passed since his death? Quite a few, certainly, in shinigami years. The passage of time was far swifter, here in the afterlife, than in the world of the living if he recalled. What would they think when they saw him, as young as the day he'd been slain? Would they curse him? Call him a monster? Probably. Taking up his zanpakutou and sliding it into his sash, Sosuke Aizen contented himself to a small smile. He had changed while they remained the same. His personality had been in flux from the moment he'd entered Soul Society. _He_ had changed, while the whole of his village remained static and unchanging. Soon all their crimes, all their injustice would laid bare. Soon they'd be judged by the hand of a god. Soon.

Very soon.

But for now, he was off to visit an old friend. It simply wouldn't do for one to be late for tea with Unohana Retsu...

**A/N: Dun-Dun-DUN! Naruto is...Aizen! Yeah kind of sad, kinda dreary. I know, we know next to NOTHING of our dear Sosuke-kun's past save that he went and betrayed Shinji and co. so, in my bleak mood, I came up with the idea. That being said, I should issue a disclaimer. This is a harsh departure from the usual happy go lucky stuff I write. This is something dark. Something gritty. Something in which everyone may not survive. This a tale of a guilty god and his troubled past.**

**This is the tale-my version of it at least-of Sosuke Aizen.**

**And yes, I know that they look nothing alike, damnit! Blame Kyuubi for that, or perhaps it is a cleverly made genjutsu? Naruto DID deceive everyone that he was just a hopeless loser with no talent, so really, the only difference between the two would be their morals and modus operandi. (Shrug) Just a thought, a idea designed to be AU and to ENTERTAIN, nothing more. So many plot ideas, so little time for the burning of Konoha and crossover harem! Mwahahaha! **

**Also, I'm pretty sure there will be more than just "tea" involved with Unohana Retsu Hint Hint...**

**R&R! =D**


	2. Goddess

**A/N: Wow! I'm so glad that you like what I've done with this story! The concept of Aizen being Naruto is entirely believable, isn't it? I mean, we know next to nothing about his past, and his motives for wanting to become god are, as of yet, unknown. I may have already said it before, but I'll say it again. This story is entirely AU, and very, very dark. It will have a happy ending, but it won't be all butterflies and rainbows like my other fics. People WILL die in this story. Some may deserve it, others...well, not so much.**

_"Justice is only as absolute as the one who wields it."_

_~Sosuke Aizen,_

**Goddess**

Unohana Retsu was not a woman to be kept waiting.

She was a patient woman, indeed, more patient than most, but even she had her limits. She was just nearing that limit when the gentle sound of footfalls reached her ears, the soft padding of sandaled feet alerting her to the untimely arrival of her guest. Even had she failed to recognize them, his reaitsu was a dead give away. It wasn't the fact that they'd known each other for several centuries, nor that they always shared a glass of tea every friday. They were simply a pair of kindred

so Retsu liked to call it. told herself.

"Your tea is cold." She remarked pleasantly as her guest removed his sandals and approached her personal quarters. None were permitted to enter here on Friday. None save one.

"Ara, I'm late, aren't I?" A young voice resounded just beyond the sliding door, chuckling nervously.

Retsu tried_-and failed-_to suppress a smile.

"Please, come in."

She glanced up as the rice paper panel slid aside, revealing the homely visage of one Sosuke Aizen. Brown hair, brown eyes, near-sighted and forced to wear spectacles, one would never have guessed this man was in fact captain of the fifth division. Never judge a book by its cover. This was Unohanna's motto. The boy had shown promise from the very beginning, even in his early days at the soul reaper academy. He'd been chosen by captain Hirako Shinji right out of the gate, somehow balancing out in spite of the blonde's erratic behavior.

Indeed, Shinji's penchant for starting trouble was legendary under the Gotei Thirteen. As was his on-and-off relationship with one Hiyori Sarugaki. More than once, the young lieutenant had been admitted to the fourth division with grievous wounds, his warning for attemtping to intervene in one of their many 'love spats' as it were. And each time Unohanna had been the one to 'chastise' Hirako for his reckless behavior. And yet Aizen never accepted the offer of transferring to a different division, despite nearly losing his life on several occasions.

The man had a _remarkable_ ability to heal.

Eventually and over the years, his infrequent visits to the fourth division became more than just visits; more than the usual patchup up, or the occasional word of reproach. Unohana wasn't sure when their weekly ritual of tea first began, only that she wouldn't trade it for the world. There was a certain 'charm' about Aizen Sosuke from the very beginning; an indefatigable optimism nearly contagious as his ever present smile. He'd have made a fine member of the fourth division, if only he'd transferred.

But, ever the faithful lieutenant, Sosuke never left his captain's side.

Faithful to the end, until the incident.

Hirako Shinji, Aikawa Love, Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi, Kensei Muguruma, Mashiro Kuna, Hachigen Ushoda, Hiyori Sarugaki, Lisa Yadomaru. Eight shinigami, four of them captains had disappeared on that night, nearly a century before. Rumors had labeled them exiles, criminals, ghosts. Unohana knew better than to assume that any one of those things was true; despite her own misgivings on the matter. Wherever Hirako might have gone, she wished him the best. It was sad, really, what had happened to the others, but young Sosuke had done an admirable job of filling the shoes left by his former captain.

Under Retsu's gentle 'tutelage', the boy had risen to the rank of captain only a decade after Hirako's departure.

That Aizen's former lieutenant, Ichimaru Gin, had become captain of the third division, also bespoke well of Aizen and his character. Lacking the eccentric mannerisms of his predecessor, he was well liked by each of the captains; perhaps moreso by their adjutants, a shining example for all shinigami.

"You're looking well, Unohana-taichou."

Unohana graced him with a small smile as she sipped her tear.

"I've told you before. Just Retsu will do, Sosuke-kun."

The brunette laughed.

"Ah, yes. My apologies, Unohana-taichou."

Retsu feigned a soft sigh.

"And how is your new lieutenant?" she asked, subtly changing the subject. "She's doing well, I trust?"

Sosuke adjusted his spectacles, nodding imperceptibly, the effort almost masking the brief flicker of disdain linger behind his hazel eyes.

"She is...well." He consented, his smile relfecting none of the disgust he felt.

_Hinamori Momo._

Childhood friend to Hitsugaya Toshirou, acquiantance to Abarai Renji and Kira Izuru. Now, Aizen's recently appointed lieutenant. By all rights she was a fine shinigami, but she was also_...lacking._ In the beginning he had chosen her for just that reason. She was malleable. Easily influenced. Eager to accept his ideals as her own. But as time progressed, he began to see the error of his decision. While Hinamori was a decent lieutenant she was also weak. Having been dubbed "dead last" in his former life, Aizen, in a lamentable bout of genuine kindness, took it upon himself to improve her skillset as best he could. To reinforce this outlook on life. When the time came for him to leave, however, Momo would be utterly devastated.

She would shatter, like so much glass.

In training her, she'd come to rely upon him even more than before. For a man that had failed to keep his promise_-one that ended up costing him his life-_nothing could sicken him more. Relying on one another was well and good; trusting in an ally to have your back when you needed it the most, encourageble, even. But depending wholeheartedly on someone for every single thing in your life? That bespoke of foolishness. He'd trusted in his village, trusted that, no matter how dire the situation, he could always depend on them. That his village would never turn on him. He'd been wrong then, just as Hinamori was now.

Though he continued to heap praise upon her, to show the utmost of kindness, it was little more than an act.

In truth he cared precious little for Hinamori Momo. She clung to him in this life, just as Haruno Sakura had clung to Uchiha Sasuke, and, in all likelihood still had, years after his defection. Hinamori was much the same selflessly throwing herself and all her personal issues at him, in the vain hope that her precious Aizen-taichou could make everything right. She'd adored him, clung to him, ever since that fateful day. Ever since he took it upon himself_-alongside his fukutaichou-_to mount a daring rescue against a swarm of hollow attacker her and a group of shinigami students in the world of the living.

He'd inspired many students that day. Hinamori amongst them. But whereas others strived to serve themselves better, to surpass their limits_=and by default the captain commanding them=_Hinamori Momo lacked such ambition. Nay, she lacked the very will to strive, though she herself brimmed with boundless potential. Oh, if only she'd listen to him! If only she'd understand! Then he could make her strong! Then he could shatter the loathsome cycle that left her bound in her own helplessness.

But no, the fragile little flower was content to cling to the vine, refusing all attempts of transfer. When he _did_ train with her it was sparingly, just enough to ensure her skills did not atrophy. Momo'd improved little since he'd first taken her on as his lieutenant and, quite frankly, it sickened him. Not because she reminded him of his former teammate, though such things could easily be said of her, but because she lacked drive. She held so much raw power, locked behind that petty facade, and she was afraid to let it out. No one looked down on her, none demeaned her, _and still_ she was afraid of her own strength.

For the man who once singlehandedly contained the Kyuubi no Kitsune for seventeen years, and continued to do so now even after his death, nothing could apall him more. He drew strength from the beast now, took it in spades whenever need be, both to reinforce his illusions, and his power. Momo held no such stigma with her. Fear was the only thing holding her back now. Fear of the unknown, of what her power, her _bankai,_ might produce once unsealed. In the field of battle, fear only got you killed.

In that sense, Sosuke Aizen was perhaps the most fearful of all.

"She seemed quite distraught yesterday." Unohanna's voice cut through his self-loathing like a zanpakuto through butter. "Did the two of you have an arguement?" Putting the matter aside, Aizen raised the glass to his lips and partook of the tea, composing his thoughts in careful order as he drank, before returning the cup to the table in equal fashion. "You see right through me, Retsu." To an extent. No one saw through him; not the Captain Commander, nor the woman sitting beside him, not even the great Kyoraku Shunsui with whom he sparred regularly, could see through this guise. Just the way he liked it.

_Just the way we like it, Naruto-kun._

Aizen fought back a smirk as the voice of his zanpakutou_-of Kyouka Suigetsu-_entered his mind. She_-one had merely to curl their fingers around her hilt to realize she emphatically female-_was always with him whenever he wielded his illusions. Even now, as he sipped tea with one of the most renowed captains of the thirteen court guard. She was his companion, his soulmate. Birthed from the depths of his soul, the only one who knew him as well as-possibly better-than himself. She'd been by this side for as long as he could remember. His partner, standing beside him with every swing of the blade, guiding every thrust toward the throat of his target with impeccable accuracy.

_Kyouka Suigetsu._

"Is something wrong, Sosuke-kun?"

Aizen blinkred, momentarily faltering.

"I seem to be distracted today, Retsu-chan."

Her lips lifted in a small smile as he slipplied; dropping the formalities, speaking her name with the affectionate suffix.

"Ah, to be young."

"You were young once, senpai."

"I still am." Her eyes twinkled softly. "Sosuke-kun."

"I'll drink to that."

Truly, it struck at his soul to know he would have to betray her, just as Konoha had betrayed him. Unohanna Retsu. If there was one woman with whom he could share his deception, it would be her. Ah, but Aizen was a hypocrite; because he too, was afraid. Afraid of what she might say, what she might do, should he ever reveal the man within the mak; the demon lurking just benath the surface of this carefully crafted illusion. She was stronger than him. She could_-would-_cut him down in an instant, should she ever suspect him of treason.

His feelings for her, however, were true.

Immediately upon Hirako's "departure", he was asked to interview for a captain's position. He had protested the request at first, but Unohana had asked him in a way that had left him little choice; while the healer was extremely patient and forgiving, she had one hell of an intense glare. He doubted that anyone could win a stare-down with Unohana Retsu. Even Kyuubi.

The exam for captaincy had been swift. It was already well established throughout Seireitei that he'd acquired and maintained his _bankai, _even having made it combat ready in under a year's time. He had passed the _taishyu_ test with flying colors, though he'd been shocked when Unohanna, one of the three captains to witness the exam, heaped praise upon him. The other two captains were Ukitake Jushirou and Kyoraku Shunsui— both captains were acquaintances of his, either through missions or bar-talk, respectively, and both had vouched for his ability to lead.

In the century since then, Aizen didn't really feel like he'd done much leading in his squadron. In fact, he felt like he'd done more _paperwork_ than instructing. Aside from overseeing and selecting the tryouts for seated positions, he actually had little contact with his division members. He let his lieutenant handle that kind of stuff.

It was all part of his plan of course, but even so, it truly startled him at times to see just how easily everything fell into place.

In the century since then, his plan was nearly complete. All that remained was for him to implement the order of execution for Kuchihi Rukia. In doing so of course, her newfound friends would doubtlessly come to her aid and attempt a daring_-if foolhardy-_rescue of her person. This too, was also part of his plan.

As was his "relationship" with Unohana Retsu.

It could not be said that Sosuke Aizen _lacked_ feelings for her the raven-haired woman. On the contrary. He cared for her in abundance, but not nearly so much that he wouldn't raise his blade against her when the time came to revolt. If it came to that. He truly and sincerely wished otherwise. Perhaps he could convince her that hers was the wrong path, and his the right, given time. But they were nearly out time. The members of the Central Forty-Six had yet to be "circumvented" and so long as they drew breath, he could not put his plans into action. He'd planned to take action today. To end their lives today. A few kind words with Unohana, and a soft goodbye and he would be gone; of the murder the forty-six men whom he loathed the most.

As such such, Sosuke Aize wasn't entirely prepared for what happened when he opened his mouth to bid her farewell.

"Leaving so soon?"

"Regrettably, yes." his sorrow was not entirely feigned. He'd miss their afternoons together. "I promised Kenpachi a spar." Surprisingly, this was the truth. The man had beaten him in a game of cards, and, lacking any sort of monetary compensation, Sosuke had been the one to suggest a spar instead. Now, he found himself regretting that decision. Sorely regretting it.

"Surely you can stay...to share one more drink?" Unohana raised her glass as rose to leave.

Aizen paused. Turned. Regarded her with something akin to amusement.

"And why might that be?"

"Because." she smiled coyly.

He sat back down.

_"Because?"_

"There is another thing to which I would drink, Sosuke-kun." she smiled, and the gesture was warm as lava glow. But her eyes flashed fire, smoldering with an emotional he knew all too well. One he recognized, after a century of shared nights and passionate lovemaking. A look he knew all too well, and yet he feigned ignorance all the same. Not all those nights had been spent with the fourth squad captain, but he knew the exprssion well enough after a hundred years, and it had served him well.

"And what might that be, Retsu-chan?" Aizen asked, trepidation fading, as she wound a hand through her braid, unwinding the delicate knots that bound her hair before her chest. Aizen smiled. He _adored_ it when Retsu let her hair down like that. In fact, he honestly preferred it. He'd never speak such a thing aloud of course, but the sentiment spoke volumes nonetheless.

"Why, to us, of course."

"Oh?" he arched an eyebrow as Unohana lowered her tea glass to the table, as her delicate fingers slipped through the sleeves of her haori, the white garment falling loose and empty at her back. For a moment he was tempted to reveal his true appearance, to experience her reaction as he revealed the man beneath this facade. But it was only a fit of whimsy, and like all whims, he suppressed it. There would be time for that later, he reminded himself, smiling at the thought, as her fingers found the lappels of his own jacket and gently tugged it off. There would be a time and a place for _many_ things later. But for now...

His mind exploded into white as his arms took control, spreading themselves across her back. He was so completely taken aback by her kiss that he hardly noticed when his left hand began to cup her firm ass and his right palm took up residence on her jaw. He deepened the kiss as he pressed his body against hers, pushing her back against the nearest wall. Her hands were just as explorative, her nimble fingertips running along his chest and stomach.

"Surely you can stay for a few hours, Sosuke-kun." It was not a question, Aizen undersood, as her lips sought his, her breasts heavng up and down against his chest as she pressed herself against him. "Surely." Nimble fingers danced across his black shihakusho a hearbeat longer before she peeled it off him. Dark hair hung in a curtain round her head as the captainess pushed him to the floor, looming over him like a predator stalking its prey, blue eyes agleam. Before he could repay her in kind she sussed him out, her own kimono gliding effortlessly from her shoulders even as his fingers sought the fabric of her hakama. She looked down at him as she always did, calm and unflustered despite her sudden nakedness.

_"Surely."_ She all but purred.

Pale, cream colored skin was exposed to the afternoon sun. Soft as satin, smooth as velvet. God, he _never_ got tired of that sight. Never got tired of the feel, as his hands traced down the valley of her breasts, the back, firm, toned muscle eventually giving way, leading down the generous curve of her hips. Lingering there, evoking the smallest of shudders in his lover, Sosuke Aizen smiled. Whenever he was with Retsu like this, he just couldn't help but feel blessed.

"I suppose I could linger a few hours more." he whispered as she lowered herself against him.

"So glad to have convince youuuuuuuh!" Her words trailed off into a sensuous maon as his hand dipped lower, then lower still.

She repaid him in kind, roughly removing the rest of his kimono and hakama as she guided him toward the bed.

Indeed, he would linger for many, many hours more...

**A/N: Bing Bang BOOM! My first lemon in a long tme! Mwahahaha! Fear Aizen for his is a wrath you do not want to invoke! Updates might come a bit slower now, as I've just been informed that I've a HEAP of bills to pay off, which means I need more overtime, which means I won't be on here as much as I'd like. I'm not quitting this story or the sight, my updates just might be...erratic for a few weeks, is all.**

**Now, would you kindly review?**

**R&R! =D**


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